


Fading Away

by Charolastra



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Musicals, POV First Person, Post-Musical happenings, Sad Ending, Teenage Suicide, connor Murphy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charolastra/pseuds/Charolastra
Summary: Zoe can't sleep, because the house is more quiet than it has been in years.Zoe can't sleep because her brother isn't there keeping her awake with his shouting.Alana Beck is there, though.





	Fading Away

Connor liked to play video games. A lot.

All through the night he'd be shouting and cursing and laughing like a fucking hyena. Screeching like his mother and father weren't in the room just down the hall, past the bathroom, right beside mine.

The light above my desk had a really nice glow. It was dim; abnormally white. I convinced dad to get me a special bulb just because I liked the way it looked on the paper. My artificial moonlight. He obliged, only because he knew Connor had broken the knob that opened my shades and it now denied me the real moon, regardless of any arduous pushing and pulling on it.

The light would illuminate my textbooks, my notebooks, and, as soon as he would start talking, it flickered.

_"Move, asshole!"_

  
Flicker, flicker.

_"Ohhh my GOD, you fag!"_

_Blink, blink._

_"You motherfucker! You fucking_ \-- _Quit_ spawn-camping, _dickshit!"_

At the time, I cursed him right back. My pencil lead burst through the paper on my notes more than once, tasting the wood of my desk. I swore college would be so much better than this--I'd never have to deal with this leech of a brother again. He would be gone before I would, if he even deigned to go somewhere that wouldn't kick him out once they knew he was just a stoner.

Now I missed it.

Ten at night, shades still shut, curvy lamp on. The light bathed every paper in bluish-white, despite how diffused they were across the oak desk. A Chemistry guide here, an English assignment there. The Artificial Moon was benevolent like that.

After he killed himself, the light stopped flickering. My papers became neater and the typos gradually faded away. The curse words, too. I don't think I've cursed aloud since then. He took it with him when he left.

I wanted him gone--I _know_ I wanted him gone--but now that he was, I had almost lost a piece of home.

No running down the halls to get away. No throwing food over the dinner table. No begging our Mom to please, smack some sense into him. No need to hide things from him. No acrid smoke seeping in under my door.

No more noise.

By the time 11 rolls around, the crickets outside have stopped chirping. The wind calmed. Even the house ceased to creak; I think I was about to go insane, and I have no fucking clue why. I couldn't focus on the work. Just the white noise in my ears.

I don't know exactly why I chose Alana.

I know that there are these times when you may get the pleasure sit down with someone you know. There are lucky moments where someone can look you in the eye, know that you're processing what they say, and still go on about every mindless thought that darts around their head, butts in; exists more like an electric shock than a connected sentence. It's only because they trust you.

That's how she sounded when she wanted to talk. We had a trust. She knew Connor, I knew Connor, neither of us liked him and neither of us desired to talk about him.  
Al never stopped talking, truly. She could quote an entire sonnet faster than her heart could beat in a minute.

"I was just finding words, you know-- I freaking hate English essays sometimes, I hate having to find stupid vocab words-- but Ms. London won't give me an A unless she thinks I'm improving. Anyways, I saw this word, 'Cordiform.' Its an adjective. But it's so..odd? Hang on, let me explain.

  
"'To be cordiform. Cordiform-faced. Cordiform.' It's a really weird word, right? It means something's heart shaped. And I saw it and I thought, 'yeah, to be cordiform-faced was a strange way to describe someone.' Face should go first in that sentence, actually. But you'd just say, 'Hey, you have a heart-shaped face,' and you'd be done with it, right? Cordiform doesn't sound any more romantic."

I didn't have to say, 'Right. Go on.' When she was interested in things, she didn't need that kind of urging.

  
"I've never seen or heard it used, either, it's just there! And it's so wild! There could be so many new words out there that are stupid as I'll get out and I've decided to find them."

"I thought you didn't like finding vocab words?"

A pause. I heard the sound of shuffling and pen scratching at paper--She was writing down the word.

"Yeah," Alana continued, muffled above her shoulder "But, like, doing it on my own is so much more fun. I don't want to be forced to do it. It's just like the rest of my grades."

  
Scratch, scratch, scratch--still writing them down. My own papers had already disappeared from my mind. If I told her about them, she'd never let me keep her on the phone.

  
"Anyway, did you need something? I probably should've asked when I picked up." She scoffs, and I can practically imagine her shaking her head at her own forgetfulness. Why _did_ I call?

I think the silence isn't what I want now.

I don't want the quiet and the hum of the light. I don't want my brother's voice rattling the rafters. I don't want my brother to fight me like he always did. I don't want the bad to stay.

I didn't think the bad would be such an important part of my life.

Alana says she needs to get back to working, so I don't stop her. When she hangs up, it's back to my own papers. Papers I don't have a strong urge to finish up right now.

 _Fuck it_. I'll sleep.

I click off the Artificial Moon. My room is finally dark.

It takes a long time for the white afterglow of the lamp to fade away, and when it does, I feel again like I've lost something.


End file.
